


and the books will tumble

by abovetheruins



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-02
Updated: 2010-05-02
Packaged: 2017-10-09 06:41:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/84162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abovetheruins/pseuds/abovetheruins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jealousy leads to sex in the library. It's really just as simple as that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and the books will tumble

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tankshallkill](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=tankshallkill).



Cook's not usually a jealous guy.

He gets that people are going to look at Archie; it's impossible not to. One flash of those huge eyes and that fucking smile and that's it, you're done for (and he would know; pathetic as it is he'd been a sucker for Archie's smile since day one).

It doesn't help that Archie's so damn nice. If he didn't love the boy so much Cook would find this vaguely annoying, the way Archie doles out his smiles to everyone (his friends, the teachers, even the fucking janitor gets a huge grin and a wave every morning), the way he's constantly offering his help (tutoring, directions, running off copies for the teachers, the boy doesn't know how to say _no_).

The entire student body is drawn to Archie, people on the fucking _street_ are drawn to Archie. He's like a dark-haired, giggling magnet. And they love to touch him, clapping him on the shoulder, ruffling his hair, patting his back. It's an occupational hazard as his boyfriend that Cook generally gets to see all of this, but he's not jealous. He has no reason to be. Because Archie? Doesn't like the whole being-grabbed thing. It's not that he hates having people touch him, he's just usually uncomfortable with it, tends to shrink away whenever someone tries to get too handsy.

Cook prides himself on being one of the few exceptions to that rule; even before they'd started dating, Archie had always put up with his constant headlocks, the arm he'd sling around the younger boy's shoulder whenever he had the chance (he'd had too, actually, Cook had never really given him a choice).

So, Cook's not a jealous guy. He's one hundred percent secure in the knowledge that Archie is _his_ (and that he belongs to Archie, but of course that's just common knowledge because everybody in the school knows Archie fucking owns him). Jealousy and Cook? Not even on the same page.

But if Benton _fucking_ Paul doesn't take his goddamn hands off of Archie, Cook's going to kill him.

He sits in the auditorium, slumped so low in his seat he's almost on the floor (because his hands are fucking _shaking_). Archie and the rest of the glee kids are up on stage, talking up a storm during their fifteen minute break before they go over their last song (and then he can grab Archie and leave, which, yeah, that will be the best fucking thing ever, _leaving_). Archie usually bounded off the stage the moment Mr. Jackson called for a breather; he'd sit with Cook and blush to the roots of his hair as the older man would rail at him, how incredible he sounded up there and how they were going to kick ass at sectionals (because it's true, Archie's voice blows him away every single time the boy opens his mouth).

But no, not this time. This time Benton fucking Paul had grabbed his arm, said something Cook couldn't hear from his seat, and boom, just like that, Archie had stayed on stage (he had shot an apologetic look at Cook and mouthed a 'later', and Cook knows it's a tiny thing and he shouldn't care, but-)

But.

Benton apparently has no concept of personal space. His hand hasn't left Archie's arm since break started, his eyes locked on the younger boy's face and he's grinning like the fucking cat that ate the canary.

Cook _knows_ that look. It's the look he'd had on his face the first day he'd met Archie, the first time he's thrown an arm over his shoulder, the first time he'd pressed himself against that warm, lithe body and _kissed_-

"Fuck." His nails are digging sharp little cresents into his palms and it's so _hard_ not to get up and rip that hand away from Archie's skin. But Archie, god, Archie would kill him for that, Benton is Archie's _friend_ and-

Benton's eyes flicker from Archie -about goddamn time- and land on _him_, and his lips quirk up into this little smirk (and Archie's just babbling on and on, doesn't even notice the heated staring contest going on right in front of his face).

_That's it_, Cook thinks, stuffing his hands into his pockets and smirking right back (it's his wiseass grin, the kind Neal always says will get him punched in the face someday). Benton narrows his eyes and looks as if he's about to say something (and they must be gaining some attention, Cook sees Adam and Kris trading glances with other and looking over at them), but Archie says something, eyebrows furrowed with confusion, and Benton's gaze snaps right back to his face.

"Alright, guys. Back to your places." Cook's never been so happy to see Mr. Jackson in his _life_, breathes deep through his mouth as the glee kids get back into position, grinning at Archie once he takes his place at the front of the stage.

He cracks his knuckles as Benton catches his eyes, tries to ignore the other boy as he sinks into his seat and focuses on the show.

-

"How was it?" Archie's breathless at the end of practice, face flushed and forehead slicked with sweat (sang his fucking heart out up there, Cook's so damn proud of him). Cook grins at his enthusiasm, ruffles his sweaty hair. Archie swats his hand away ("People are _staring_, Cook, jeez.") but he's smiling, eyes warm and happy beneath the fall of his lashes.

"Phenomenal," Cook says, reaching into his backpack and pulling out a water bottle; Archie catches it with a grin and a murmured, "Thank you" before he twists the cap and swallows half of the water in one long gulp. Cook tries not to ogle the long, smooth line of his throat, the way his adam's apple bobs with each pull from the bottle (but hell, boyfriend, he's got nothing to hide from anyone here).

"You really think so?" Archie pops the lid back on the bottle and stuffs it in his own backpack. Cook shoulders his own and they head to the front of the auditorium, meshing with the other glee kids eager to leave.

"Yes, Arch, I really think so." Cook laughs, throwing his arm around Archie's shoulders. "With you up there, sectionals is in the bag."

"He's right, David." And oh hell no.

Benton slides up beside them; Cook's arm drops from Archie's shoulder (because as much as he'd _love_ to show this little fucker exactly who Archie is with, he knows the younger boy isn't completely comfortable with their relationship being put on display).

Archie shakes his head (he keeps his body close to Cook's, their arms brushing as they walk and Cook grins). "C'mon, no. It's not just me. There's you and Adam and Kris and Carly and-"

Benton laughs. "We get it, David." He throws a look over his shoulder at Cook. "We're just saying, with your voice we have a better chance, that's all. You really were amazing up there today." His hand comes up and Cook just _knows_ he's going to slide it around Archie's arm (apparently not satisfied enough after practically groping him up on stage) but Archie surprises them both and pulls away (just a little twitch of his body, nothing clearly noticeable to anybody that's not Cook).

"Well," he says, sliding his hands onto the straps of his backpack, hefting it further up onto his shoulders. "Thanks. I'm sure we'll do great. At sectionals. Um. We need to get going, I guess? Cook, don't you have band practice to get to?"

And yeah, Cook does, every Friday at six o'clock (the clock on the wall they pass says 5:30). Archie always ends up going with him (which had taken some persistence and a little bit of begging, which Cook can understand because Neal can come off as fucking _scary_ to someone who doesn't know him).

Archie nods, turning to Benton with a blinding smile (Cook can practically see the kid melting into his shoes, Jesus Christ. He refuses to acknowledge that he acted in much the same way, those first few weeks). "See you on Monday?"

"Yeah, yeah." Benton shakes his head, and then (fucking hell) drags his hand along Archie's shoulders before he -finally- leaves (but not before throwing this _look_ over his shoulder at Cook, this challenging little stare and god-)

"Um. Cook?" Archie's hand comes up to rest on his shoulder; he stands on his tiptoes to peer up into Cook's eyes. "Hey, you alright? What's wrong?"

And damn it, this isn't, he's not supposed to let this get to him. Just because some little... Just because Benton fucking Paul apparently has got it into his head that he's got what it takes to challenge Cook to, what? Win Archie's hand? It's ridiculous and juvenile and Cook should be big enough of a person to be able to step away from this and calm the fuck down, but he can't get the image of Benton's hands on Archie's shoulders out of his head, and what that had led to when it had been _him_ and-

He grabs Archie's hand and pulls him down the hallway, turning at the double doors leading out of the school and nearly sprinting in the opposite direction of all of the glee kids (he spots Adam and Kris staring after them, knowing little grins on both of their faces, motherfuckers).

"Cook? Where are we- You'll be late!"

And Cook could care less about that, Neal can yell at his ass all he wants but he _has_ to do this before he explodes. It's stupid and reckless and he's insane to be trying this in school, but there are these images flying through his head of him and Archie and the things they've done and then the figure of him changes to _Benton_ and this sour taste fills his mouth.

He nearly throws open the doors to the library. This late in the day no one's around to see them; Cook sees that the desk at the front is empty, spies the little note that says 'Out to Lunch', thank god, and sprints for the stairs (the elevator is out of the question, fuck, if he's alone with Archie for more than two seconds he's going to take him on the fucking _floor_)

The upper level is just as deserted as the lower; Cook's pulse is pounding in his veins as his pulls Archie behind him (loosely, he's not completely out of his mind here). He pulls them towards the farthest corner, in between two narrow bookshelves full of heavy, dusty tomes, old research books that no one probably ever uses.

It's dark within the narrow little walkway, not much light to reach them from the windows with the sun setting. It's quiet too (so, so quiet), and Cook just, just stops for a minute, Archie pressed up close against him and staring at him like he's lost his mind.

"Cook, what in the world are we _doing_?" Archie's voice is tiny in the stillness, just a whisper, but the puff of his breath against Cook's face almost completely undoes him (and god, he doesn't know what this is, what's wrong with him).

"Arch." His voice comes out fucking strangled. He presses the cradle of their hips together, knows Archie can feel the thick heat of his erection pressed up tight against his jeans. The younger boy's eyes grow to nearly twice their size, and Cook would find that hilarious if he wasn't so hard and _god_, he needed-

"You're... _here_?!" Archie looks completely scandalized (but his eyes have taken on this darker hue, lips parting with what may be anticipation). "Cook, we _can't_. Not in school, oh my gosh, someone could _hear_ us."

"I know, I know." Doesn't stop him from pressing Archie into the bookself behind him, moving his hand to draw his fingers as slow as humanly possible down Archie's chest, over the bulge in his own jeans. Cook watches him clamp his teeth onto his lower lip, watches him try to reel in the strangled groan that slips free and it's the sweetest fucking sound he's ever heard. _This is me_, he thinks, reaching down to press the heel of his hand against Archie (and he's so _warm_ against his skin, even through the rough fabric of Archie's jeans). _This is me doing this, me making Archie feel like this_. Not anyone else, not Benton or any of the other dozens of people that wish they could be feeling this, that wish that Archie would look at them like he's looking at Cook now, flushed and panting and so damn _trusting_.

"Tell me to stop," Cook says, lips right up against Archie's ear, scruffy cheek pressed close to his. "You tell me to stop, Arch, _David_, and I will. Okay?"

He pulls back and Archie's looking at him with those huge eyes and that enormous, blinding smile. He reaches his arms up and wraps them around Cook's shoulders, presses one tiny, chaste kiss to his lips before he pulls back. "Okay."

Maybe Archie sees how badly he needs this, maybe he doesn't even understand it but can see that it's something that Cook _has_ to do. Either way it makes Cook's heart clench in his chest, warm and squeezing and he kisses Archie with every once of love he can pull from his body, swallows his shallow, mewling cries with his lips and tongue until Archie is a shuddering mess against him.

He trails biting nips and open-mouthed kisses down Archie's neck, slides his tongue along the faint and fading marks that Archie always has to cover with the collar of his shirt, sucks to life a new one right above his collarbone. Archie scrabbles for a hold against the bookself (Cook hears a heavy volume bang as it tumbles to the floor) but he's not done yet, no where near it.

They can't do much, not here, not with the little time they have and Cook doesn't plan on wasting a second. He snaps the buttons of Archie's shirt one by one, tastes the salty tang of his sweat as he lowers himself to his knees.

"Cook, oh." Archie's voice is the same rasp it always is when Cook does this, his eyes wide and glazed, hair sticking to his forehead and in his eyes. "You don't, _oh_, oh gosh, you don't have to-"

He yanks at the button on Archie's jeans and slides his hand inside, wrapping his fingers around the erection trapped beneath the cotton boxers and Archie's head snaps back against the shelf, a high keening moan escaping before he can stop it. He grabs a hold of his shirt, hanging open at his chest and stuffs a piece into his mouth, bites down on the strip of cloth to keep himself from screaming.

Cook pulls at Archie's jeans; the younger boy gasps in a strangled breath and shimmies his hips until they slide loose. His boxers go with them, trailing down his legs and to the floor, and Cook feels his mouth water at the sight before him, hears a litany of _mine, mine, mine_ in his head as he leans forward and licks a warm, wet streak along the underside of Archie's cock.

Archie's hands fly to his shoulder; twin thuds reverberate in the tiny, narrow space, two more books toppling from their perch and Cook grips Archie's hips, slides his fingers over the taut stomach muscles, feeling them twitch beneath his skin. Archie's fucking falling apart above him and it's too soon, Cook hasn't even gotten to the good part yet, the part he loves (the way it makes Archie feel, the way it makes him act, so uninhibited, it drives Cook _crazy_).

He surges forward and wraps his lips around the base of Archie's cock, fucking swallows him whole, groans falling from his lips like rain. The salty sweet taste coating his tongue is all Archie, his sweat, his skin, his come, everything that Cook loves and _has_, everything that belongs to Archie, belongs to him, this is _theirs_, and Cook can't believe he had ever questioned that, had ever let himself feel like he might not be enough.

Archie's fingers slide into his hair and pull, gentle little tugs that Cook knows means that he should back off, that Archie is close, but no, not this time. He wraps his arms around Archie's waist and _sucks_, hard. Archie keens through his shirt, his back arching off of the shelf. He comes in long, warm spurts, trembling with every beat of his pulse, and Cook swallows every single drop with greedy lips and tongue until there's nothing left.

Archie falls back against the bookshelf, the now damp piece of his shirt falling from his mouth as he gulps in huge lungfuls of air. Cook slides his mouth off of him, being careful not to scrape his teeth against the overly sensitized skin; Archie whimpers and bites his lip, and god, Cook can't, he can't even-

He surges up and wraps his arms around Archie, pulls him as close as he can, smells the musk and sweat and the scent that's distinctly _Archie_, clean and fresh and earthy.

"Sorry, Arch, I'm so," he presses his apologies into Archie's hair, rubs his hands along the slick skin of his back. "I don't, I kept thinking of you and Benton and I couldn't, I _needed_-"

Archie's hands are running through his hair, over his face; he kisses Cook and it's the sweetest feeling in the world. "_Cook_, gosh, you're so." His voice is breathy and affectionate, eyes warm and bright and Cook gets it, Archie had understood, he'd known. "You're so _stupid_, Cook, how could you ever think? Jeez."

Cook laughs into his skin (and if there's moisture in his eyes, well, he blames it on the sweat). "I know, I know." He pulls back and reaches down between them, pulls at Archie's jeans and boxers until they're snug against his hips. Archie's already gotten his shirt buttoned and Cook feels a pang of loss at all of that skin being covered (he's still so hard it's getting to near painful levels, so maybe a little less skin is a good thing at this point).

Archie watches him for a moment, licking his lips and _fuck_, that's really not helping. "I could, um. You know." And Cook would laugh at the look on Archie's face, the flushed, embarrassed tint he always gets when Cook forces him to talk about something intimate, if all of the blood in his brain hadn't shot down to his cock at that comment.

"Let's go," he says, and his voice is choked and so low it's barely recognizable (he sees the way Archie's eyes go dark, feels the warm, rapid beat of his pulse beneath his fingers).

Archie swallows once, loud in the sudden quiet, glances at the clock and licks his lips. "But, your band, won't they be mad if you miss practice?"

And yeah, Cook knows they will. Neal will curse up a storm and Andy and Kyle will just shake their heads in disgust (they all know how bad he has it). He grins, dark and promising.

"Screw 'em. I'm taking you _home_."


End file.
